Dolo’s cousin Dimitri was standing on the street waiting for us with a big black umbrella at the gate to the big house. Mimo parked the taxi and we unloaded the instruments and ran up to the the path in the rain under Dimitri’s umbrella. As we approached, I could hear the unmistakable mad bee sound of Dolo’s violin cutting through the mix of singing and seven string guitar playing. The party was in full swing in the big living room.
“Eiiiii, Nachinho… Sar san, prala!” Dolo shouted to me as we piled into a warm jumble of greetings, hugs, kisses and backslaps. Several round, smiling gypsy women in long, colorful silk skirts with lots of gold coin necklesses and jingling gold bracelets were singing and dancing around as their men played their respective instruments. I knew most of the people there. Those I hadn’t met before greeted me warmly and gestured wildly for me to “get in”… A distinguished older Frenchman, a gadjo was introduced to me as the big music producer Mimo had told me about. Like everybody else he seemed to be having a good time. No wonder he wanted to produce this crazy gypsy music. The good Roma spirits were rolling high and as always immediately infectious.
There where about twenty people hanging around, mostly gypsies. Those without instruments were singing along, shouting, clapping, tapping, beating, banging away with forks and spoons on table tops, joining in any way they could to reinforce that crazy kinetic gypsy rhythm with matchboxes, ashtrays, wine bottles, plates and every other available improvised percussion instrument in the room… I picked up an unclaimed brass tray and a wooden spoon off the table and “got in” as the others hooted their approval. With gypsy music, “more is better” seems to be the rule. Just like old times…
to be continued…
Copyright Jonathan Shaw 2009.
Family… Warmth… Music… Freedom…
Reasons to breathe.
Rare and lucky things to have.
And of course… more is better.